Hardened Frailty
by XantiumRising
Summary: After his injury in combat, Perceptor finds it hard to return to life as before with the Wreckers. Constantly questioning why his teammates left him for dead, Perceptor finds himself further distracted by the enigmatic Drift.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a day like every other day had been for the past two weeks. Or so it seemed in Perceptor's CPU. Quietly, he roused himself from recharge, looking across his empty berth to the empty wall within the empty room. His berth was cold but for his own warmth and slowly he sat up with a soft sigh. Swinging his pedes over the side of the berth, his loneliness had only been magnified ten fold since his. . .injury. The very thought of it caused an arm to jerk up even with his chest. Slowly he'd press his palm over the reinforced plating that had been secured over his chest plating that had been so mauled. A frown crossed his features as he traced his digits over it, memorizing it like he did every morning.

Perceptor didn't even remember what had happened to be perfectly honest, he didn't even remember the mission nor even the days and weeks prior. Parts of his memory banks were very much corrupted and that thought prompted his other arm to reach up and touch at the glassy surface of a new optic and the new dermal plating. There was still scarring, and there would probably always be scarring, but the medic had done his best. . . Not that it really much mattered what he looked like, Perceptor thought bitterly. What did bother him was the state of his CPU and all the rest of the frail systems buried underneath his helm. Sometimes, when he worked too hard, his CPU would ache terribly, it was probably something that would never go away.

Weakly sighing, Perceptor rose off his berth before slowly striding to the door. What was the point? His existence was bleak and lacking, there was no one at his side, no one to care for him, or for him to care for. The closest thing to such had been that mech who had saved him. The one he had only been able to stutter a weak thanks to.

Drift.

That was the designation of the mech who had saved him without even a second thought while his teammates had made their escape off the Decepticon vessel. Perceptor still couldn't figure out why Drift had saved him, though what ever the reason, the scientist was thankful to the mech if for the only reason that for once someone had thought of him.

Slipping out the door, Perceptor looked up and down the halls. They were empty as it was still too early of an hour for most of the Wreckers to be up out of recharge except for a skeleton crew. The gentle hum of the Xantium was all he heard besides the soft whoosh of the door shutting behind him. Striding down the empty hall ways, Perceptor was greeted by the sound of his own pedefalls echoing off the halls. His tanks rumbled and he chose to go to the commissary first to sate the need of energy. Truly, Perceptor felt like a drone though he had only realized it recently. He fueled, he worked, and then he recharged. There was no recreation, there was no enjoyment, and there certainly wasn't companionship he thought as he stepped into the open doorway.

Perceptor had expected it to be empty, devoid of all other mechs, but he was wrong. Azure optics flared at the sight of the pale mech within. Drift was all sharp angles and curves combined with pale white paint touched with the slightest of red accents. To Perceptor, the mech was stunning and he felt himself stiffen as cold azure optics swivelled about to meet his. His intakes even hitched and he meant to make a greeting, there, just a step within the commissary, but every system had froze up.

It turned out to be Drift who would speak first. "Perceptor," came the mech's voice, cold yet seemingly gentle to the scientist's audio receptors. Drift was seated at a table, enjoying a cube alone.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of staring, Perceptor bowed his helm in embarrassment before offering a, "H-Hello Drift, h-how are you?"

"I am fine, and you, Perceptor, how are you fairing?" the mech asked in a voice that seemed unusually cultured for a mech of Drift's caliber and profession.

Biting at his lip with his helm still down, his cheek plating hot, Perceptor managed a, "I'm well, t-thank you," before he found the dexterity to move towards the energon dispenser. Half stumbling, Perceptor managed to grab hold of an empty cube. He was nervous, intensely so, and he allowed his features to slacken with his back to Drift. Shaking quite badly, Perceptor cursed himself quietly as the cube tumbled from his grip, falling to the floor and spilling the freshly poured contents. Perceptor was quick to bend down and pick it up, but he only dropped it again when he had straightened, for right there was Drift, at his side. Half jumping, Perceptor squeaked as he felt Drift's slender, but deadly hands upon his.

"Are you alright? You're shaking," came Drift's cool voice and Perceptor found himself even more nervous now.

"Ahh, fine, really, I'm just. . .ah. . .clumsy first thing out of recharge," Perceptor replied, laughing nervously. He felt like an idiot, making a fool out of himself right there. Never before had he much cared how he came off to others. He was always polite and kind, but he never gave much thought of what others had thought about him. No, he had usually been off in his own little world.

Until the accident. Until Drift.

"Do you always shake so badly out of recharge?" Drift asked. Perceptor thought he surely should check his audio receptors, for it sounded like the mech was actually genuinely concerned for him.

Glancing down, Perceptor felt his intakes hitch at the sight of Drift's hands upon his and he found his mouth opening and closing.

"Here," Drift said as he freed one hand, picking up an empty cube and expertly refilling it. Placing it into Perceptor's hand, but keeping one hand on it as well, Drift wrapped an arm around the scientist's waist. Once again, Perceptor squeaked, unable to help it as he was guided towards a table.

"Ah, ah, t-thank you Drift," Perceptor murmured quickly as the mech helped him become seated and he watched Drift with rapt attention as the swordsmech seated himself beside him.

Enthralled was the wrong word, Perceptor thought, no, he was enraptured by this stunning, gleaming creature before him.

"Think nothing of it," replied Drift before he would speak again with a slight nod, "Go on, drink." And drink, Perceptor did, though his optics could not leave Drift's visage. Not even for a moment.

*****

The day wore on, and Perceptor had tried to work, but all he could think about was Drift. At his desk, sat idle tools, instruments and reports, and Perceptor leaned back in his chair. His pedes were just touched to the floor, his heels kicked up on the bottom rung of the chair while his hands were folded his lap. The scientist's lips were slightly parted and his optics were nearly hazed over. While past memories were jumbled up, corrupted even, this newest one played over and over. Perceptor swore he could still feel that hand on his waist and both of those hands on his. Every time he thought about it, he'd feel himself warm. Perceptor couldn't get his CPU off the other mech, not even if he had tried.

Looking down slowly from the wall, Perceptor found his optics on his disused materials before sighing. His shift was nearly over and he hadn't done a thing except withdraw his materials. Now it was time to put things up and clean up. Even that, he did with thoughts of Drift, and he was sure he had placed a few of his samples in the wrong place. No matter, he could fix it later, he thought as he shut a cabinet door, stepping away from it with another of those dreamy little sighs. Rubbing a hand on his cheek, Perceptor slipped out the door only for his systems to freeze up once again. There was Drift, once again, cool azure optics turning to meet his.

Just like before, it was Drift who spoke first. "Ah, I wanted to make sure you were alright. You were shaken earlier today."

Perceptor's optics flared as his jaw dropped slightly. Perceptor had never really been too bothered that few mechs had ever really looked at him or even cared for that matter. . . Yet the thought of the most startling and striking creature he had ever set optics on him had some interest in him. . . Realizing he hadn't yet replied, Perceptor stuttered a few unintelligible noises before replying, "Y-yes, quite alright." A weak smile touched his lips as he watched Drift's helm cant to the side. Clearly, the warrior didn't believe him, but didn't press the issue.

Drift smiled softly, azure optics gentle before he asked, "You are off shift now I assume?"

Perceptor couldn't quite figured out why the mech across from him, was even remotely interested in him, but Perceptor replied with a nervous, "Y-yes, I am."

A nod was made by Drift before the mech asked another question, "Would you like to have a cube of energon with me?"

The question completely caught Perceptor off guard and he knew his optics must've flashed bright as he saw Drift cant his head to the side. Still Perceptor was stunned. No one had ever acted as if he had even existed, and here was Drift, the most enigmatic creature he had ever seen, much less met, asking him to go have a cube of energon. While for many mechs, this would been something simple, innocent and not at all meaningful, to Perceptor, it was enough to make his systems freeze up.

"Perceptor?"

"Ohh!" the scientist finally managed, rousing himself from his thoughts with a shake of his head. "Ah. . . I usually just go to my quarters after my shift," Perceptor murmured shyly.

"You only refuel once a day?" Drift asked with a little frown before taking a step forward. "You should take more energon, Perceptor," Drift chided before offering the mech his arm. "Come, I won't take no for an answer," the mech said with a soft smile.

Perceptor could only stare dumbly at that proffered arm but after several moments of debate he took the offer, wrapping both of his arms gingerly about Drift's. Perceptor couldn't believe it, but Drift did not jerk his arm away, instead the mech smiled.

Quietly, Drift led Perceptor towards the commissary and the scientist still couldn't believe what was happening. Every so often, Drift would turn his helm and would smile at him. It sent chills down his backstrut and he thought surely Drift must be able to sense the heat radiating from his frame. Reaching the commissary, Perceptor realized why he never got energon after shift. Inside were more than a few of the Wreckers, including Broadside, Sandstorm, Blurr and Hotrod.

It seemed that it wasn't just Perceptor that was surprised at Drift's actions towards the scientist, but it was like the entire room went quiet at the sight of Perceptor arm in arm with the newest Wrecker. Perceptor felt his cheeks flare with warmth and he was caught between the desire to bolt or freeze up. Yet Drift kept him going, never even paying attention to all the stares or the quietness. Reaching the dispenser, Drift turned his head slightly to smile at Perceptor reassuringly while he filled two cubes. As if sensing Perceptor's discomfort in the situation, the mech whispered, "It's a little busy in here, wouldn't you say? Let's go back to your quarters, yes?" the mech asked. Thankful for that reprieve, Perceptor nodded his helm almost too animatedly before the mech guided him back to the door and out, holding both the cubes.

"Thank you," Perceptor whispered, still having his arms looped over Drift's once they were out the door. Even before his accident, Perceptor had never liked being around so many mechs, but now, it was even worse, especially around them. Those mechs who were supposed to be his teammates had left him for dead. Perceptor tried to tell himself that it was because they believed him offline for good, surely any mech that took one to the spark and one to the CPU would've surely been so. . . Yet Drift had saved him, a mech who didn't even know his designation. . .

"Think nothing of it," came Drift's cordial response.

Perceptor could only smile.

***

It was such a nice evening, Perceptor thought. Certainly, it was the best one since his injury, and it was still certainly better than most he had before. Drift and him had only shared small talk over those cubes of energon, in the relative peace of Perceptor's quarters. As small as their talk was, it meant great deal to Perceptor. Despite that fragment of happiness, Perceptor was almost paranoid that Drift must've thought him annoying or obsessive. Still, Perceptor couldn't keep his optics off of the shining mech seated on the chair across from him, who was seated on his berth because he only had one chair. There was only one chair because he had never had any need for another, because no one had ever seen him before.

Drift was beautiful, Perceptor thought as he stared at the mech across from him, enthralled in all the sharp angles and smooth curves of Drift. When the mech smiled, Perceptor could feel his spark quiver, and when Drift looked at him, he could feel his circuits race.

"Have you been to many systems?" Drift ask with curiosity, those cool optics looking to him and Perceptor thought the mech was truly interested.

Smiling weakly, Perceptor replied with, "Y-yes, thought I'm not usually on field. Most of the time any samples are collected by the crew, though they often take little care with them. . ."

"Ahh, I have only been to a few planets myself, though I have been doing much more traveling lately," Drift said with the slightest bit of a chuckle. A chuckle that made Perceptor's systems flutter. It had been years since Perceptor had ever been so friendly with another mech. The last time he had even been remotely close with another was with a fellow scientist, Wheeljack, whom Perceptor did miss working with. Yet he had never been so attracted to a mech like he was Drift.

"How are you liking it here, Drift?" Perceptor asked, the first question he had offered, too nervous to ask the swordsmech anything.

Perceptor would watch as Drift's optics lit up and he tilted his helm before looking thoughtful. "It is different from what I am used to, but the company is infinitely better than what I am used to," Drift said with a warm smile.

Feeling his cheeks warm, Perceptor was forced to turn his head shyly away for a moment. While his face felt hot, his backstrut felt cold with all the chills running up and down it.

"Ahh, I hate to leave so early, I've much enjoyed speaking with you, Perceptor, but I must go," Drift said softly, his voice apologetic.

Perceptor would whirl his head around, optics brightening as he spoke, "Oh. . .Okay. . ."

"Kup wanted to speak to me, and I cannot really disregard his orders," Drift continued, "Maybe tomorrow? I would enjoy such a peaceful chat again."

"Of course!" Perceptor said warmly as he watched Drift stand. Part of the scientist believed that Drift had simply grown bored of him already and that the visit tomorrow would never come. Yet such thoughts were pushed away when the pale mech strode over to him before bending low. Perceptor's optics flared as he felt Drift's lips brush over his.

"Take care Perceptor," the mech whispered over his lips before making a gentle press and Perceptor swore his spark pulsed several times over. A sigh broke Perceptor's lips as he felt Drift's hand travel over his cheek before the mech pulled away. All too delayed, Perceptor murmured a, "Y-Yes, you too, Drift." Another smile was exchanged before Drift slipped out, all while Perceptor watched, his CPU focused only on Drift. . .


	2. Chapter 2

Hardened Frailty

Chapter 2

Oh how had he ended up there, how, how how?! His CPU raced as heat flooded his systems. The scientist was pinned up against the wall, his frame half covered by that sleek pale form of Drift's. A soft whimper left him as the mech nipping at his neck grasped a hand about his leg. It was so sudden, they had only been speaking for a week even though Perceptor was helm over pedes for the mech. Perceptor couldn't help but gasp to the feel of Drift drawing his leg up. Soon, the swordsmech had pressed Perceptor's thigh against the shining white plating of Drift's hip.

"Do you want me?" Drift asked in a whisper and Perceptor could only nod his head up and down as his hands weakly clutched at Drift's shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Drift continued, flicking his glossa out against that audio receptor. Such a touch made Perceptor moan and he couldn't help but nod again before bleating out a weak, "Y-yes. . ."

"I'm not really a nice mech inside," Drift said in a hushed tone, his optics dimmed and Perceptor just couldn't believe that. "You see. . . I used to be a Decepticon," Drift revealed and Perceptor's intakes hitched as the mech pressed his lips to his audio receptor again.

The mere thought of Drift being a Decepticon seemed impossible yet all too frightening to the meek scientist.

"I need someone. . . Someone to help me. . .with my urges. . ." Drift managed in a slow rasp before grinding his panel against Perceptor's. That zone upon the scientist had been so ignored for so long and heat blossomed while pleasure rolled over him. The swordsmech had been quick to wrap an arm about his waist possessively. That strong grip made Perceptor shiver from his neck all the way down to the end of his backstrut.

"Would you be that one? You'd never be lonely again, I'd take care of you, but it wouldn't be the best care. . . I might hurt you. . . but I need someone," Drift almost growled out.

Perceptor thought he felt lubricant dripping down his valve at that. Was he insane that he was even considering this, even wanting it?! Common sense said no, but he wanted all that Drift was promising. The mech had been so good to him, but Drift said he could hurt him. . . Yet Drift had also saved his life. . . Didn't he owe Drift what he wanted. . .?

"Do you still want me?" Drift asked he ground against Perceptor, his voice becoming less and less refined.

"Yes. . ." came Perceptor's weak answer.

"I didn't hear you, Perceptor," Drift growled as he forced their panels together once again which caused a loud moan from Perceptor.

"Yes! Yes, I want you!" Perceptor cried out, though his voice still trembled and cracked, though it seemed to be a good answer for Drift who pressed his lips hard against Perceptor's.

Before he knew it, Drift's glossa was in his mouth, wiggling seeking his own glossa out. Every so often, Drift's denta would scrape at his lips while the mech moved against him. Paint was surely being scraped off, but Perceptor couldn't bring himself to care as Drift dragged him back from the wall, his arm still wrapped around his waist. The next thing he knew was that he was being forced to the berth.

Those hands of Drift's were quick and Perceptor cried out as his legs were pulled apart and spread wide. A gasp left Perceptor as Drift moved over him, and the weight of the mech atop him felt so good for a reason he could not comprehend. Thinking he should do something, Peceptor lifted his hands to touch those powerful shoulders only to find them pinned above his head. The mech growled at him and Perceptor could only stare dumbly for a moment before his audio receptors were greeted by a shriek of metal. Pleasure hit him and Perceptor rolled his head back before moan at the sensation of their panels meeting.

"Mine," growled Drift and Perceptor could not find the will in him to debate that and nor did he want to. If Drift wanted him then he could have him. The attention Drift was currently displaying was perhaps not the positive type but Perceptor was neglected, needy and at that moment he didn't care.

Pain hit him as Drift actually bit his shoulder and the scientist squirmed before whining, but the mark was quickly soothed by Drift's lapping glossa.

"Open," Drift demanded as he gathered both of Perceptor's hands into one of his before moving one down to rub harshly at Perceptor's panel.

The scientist found himself squirming even more at that rough touch, but he moaned despite it. Oh he couldn't resist Drift for long and his panel slipped right up and open a moment later. Squealing out, Perceptor realized Drift was not one to waste time when the mech shoved a digit into his valve. Wiggling his hips, Perceptor moaned as Drift's digit would press against the pliable walls of his valve.

"Good. . . very good. . . nice and tight. . . No seals though, unfortunately, but nearly as good," purred Drift, speaking as if he was trying to determine the worth of something rather than Perceptor's pleasure. The digit drew out from Perceptor's valve and he whined, craving more of that stimulation. Wanting to know where that hand went, Perceptor lifted his head, only to see Drift rubbing it on his own panel, smearing purplish lubricant all over the pale plating. It was an arousing image and Perceptor moaned as he watched. A moment later, Perceptor heard the tell tale click of Drift's panel lifting.

Perceptor questioned himself, wondering why he was so willing to this but the only answer he could come up was that he was purely desperate.

"Turn off your optics and lay your head back," Drift demanded with narrowed optics and Perceptor found himself automatically responding to that all too strong voice. Letting his head drop, the scientist flicked his optics off. There was movement, and his bottom lip trembled in anxiety. There was no warning, none at all, and Perceptor cried out as he was invaded. While Perceptor squirmed, Drift pinned both of his hips while the swordsmech pressed himself into Perceptor's valve.

Moans and cries left Perceptor while Drift's spike pressed into him, it was a little painful given the lack of use to his valve, but the pleasure was so worth it. Still, Perceptor couldn't help but think that there was something odd about Drift's spike. Not that Perceptor had taken too many spikes to his valve to really form a conclusion, but there was something peculiar. . .

A howl left Perceptor as that spike pulled back and he clamped his denta to his bottom lip to quiet himself. The ridges upon it seemed far more pronounced than what he would've expected and Drift surely was larger, both in length and girth than what he would've expected. Yet it was dreadfully good as a muffled sound left his lips when Drift pressed back into to him and none too gently. There was a slight crack, and then another one and pleasure and pain stung in Perceptor's cheeks. Shocked, the scientist turned his optics on before he had realized that Drift had slapped him. . .Twice.

"Moan for me," growled the pale mech before he drew his length back out as he slapped him for a third time.

Perceptor did just that, crying out at the sensations working along his frame, the sting in his cheeks actually being translated into pleasure, and most definitely the sensations in his valve from the thick, heavily ridged spike teasing and rubbing over the nodes within.

Watching Drift hike one of his legs up, Perceptor would moan as the mech gave him several more of those long thrusts. A gasp broke the scientist's lips as Drift suddenly pulled out of him and he looked up in time to see that spike that had been pleasuring him. It was just as thick as it had felt, as well as long, and Perceptor's optics brightened at just how ridged it was. Drift's spike looked. . .painful at first sight and it was no wonder why the mech had made him turn his optics off. The tip of it was almost bulbous, wider than the part of the shaft directly proceeding it, but still more slender than the mech's base.

Looking to Drift in confusion, the swordsmech rumbled, "Turn over."

A squeak left Perceptor when the mech did not even give him a chance to do as he was told and instead found himself shoved over on his chest before Drift's grabbing hands yanked his aft up. "Get on your knees," the swordsmech commanded and Perceptor managed to do just that before the mech pressed upon his backstrut so that Perceptor had his face pressed against his arms. There was no chance to catch his breath at the change of position as he felt his legs spread before being penetrated. Crying out, Perceptor turned his head to the side as pleasure hit his sensory grids hard while Drift's spike pressed deep into his valve. Deeper, and deeper did Drift press into him and Perceptor was forced not to squirm at the sensation of his valve stretching to accommodate the large spike.

Moaning loudly as Drift's form pressed over his in a fashion all too dominate, Perceptor felt the mech draw his hips back before starting to thrust into him. The motions were quick and sharp, but all too pleasurable for the mewling Perceptor. The scientist sensed Drift's mouth by his shoulder, intakes spewing hot air over the plating. The weight of the mech atop him only added to the sensations Perceptor was experiencing.

"So wet," rasped Drift before he bit down upon Perceptor's shoulder plating while Perceptor resisted the urge to scream out. . .in pleasure. Wailing in pleasure, Perceptor writhed as the Drift's thrusts became shorter but so much quicker. All Perceptor could hear was his own sounds and the grating and clang of metal as their frames met from Drift's exertions. Perceptor's mouth would jerk wide as his own fluids dripped onto the berth while the swordsmech pounded his valve with those sharp exertions.

There wasn't even the smallest chance that Perceptor could've possibly held up to that assault all too long. Crying out louder and louder, Perceptor's valve tense about that pleasurable intruder. That only made Drift feel all the larger, which only made Perceptor grow that much closer to completion. A mewl left Perceptor as overload hit him and hard, while Drift's denta locked onto his shoulder when his valve constricted upon Drift's heavily ridged spike. Gasps left the scientist as those thrusts became even more flurried, desperate even, which told Perceptor that Drift was working for his overload.

Even as his own overload was dying down, Perceptor was still moaning at the sheer sensation of those deep ridges rubbing against the nodes in his valve. A squeal left him when Drift drove his digits into his hips, yanking him back and completely upon his spike to hilt. Hot fluids poured into the scientist's valve as Drift grunted out his overload. The sensation of those fluids filling his reproduction tank was intoxicating the point that Perceptor mewled out loudly.

Moments later, Drift pulledl out from him, which left the scientist's valve empty while a whole onslaught of fluids dribbled from his valve onto the berth or down his thighs. Soon Perceptor was knocked over, rolled back onto his back and he cried out when Drift shoved two digits into his over sensitive valve. It was brief though, as Drift drew his digits back only a moment later, his fingers coated in a mix of violet and silvery fluids. A feral smile touched the mech's lips and Perceptor could only shiver when the mech leaned forward to smear those fluids across his lips before shoving them into the scientist's mouth. Optics flashing, Perceptor was forced to suckle the fluids off those digits as the mech swished them around his mouth. The fluids were tangy, but almost sweet at the same time and he was rather surprised by the taste.

A shiver worked down Perceptor's back strut when Drift's lips pressed against his audio receptor again, this time the opposite one. The sound from the mech's intakes was husky, a low rattle in his chest that only made Perceptor want Drift to take him again.

"I'm tempted to fill you full of transfluid," Drift threatened in a whisper, his optics sharp but dimmed. "Make you mine," the mech continued before biting at Perceptor's neck. A whine broke Perceptor's vocalizer at those words, aroused by those words, becoming fond for the aggressive mech for even wanting him.

Perceptor watched as Drift lifted his head, only to press his lips firmly to Perceptor's. A muffled moan left him when the mech also pressed his digits into Perceptor's valve once again, this time scissoring his digits. Soon, Drift had his glossa tangled about Perceptor's, his mouth turned at an angle so he could kiss the scientist firmer than before.

"Do you want me to fill sweet little valve of your's full again, Percy. . .?" Drift crooned against his lips and there was something extremely arousing about how Drift could sound so smooth and then sound so rough to Perceptor. . .

"Y-yes," came Perceptor's weak answer before he moaned aloud at the touches of those digits.

"Such an eager little thing," Drift said with a smile that Perceptor could only describe as a look one would see on the face of a Decepticon. . .


	3. Chapter 3

It was maddening, Perceptor thought as he trembled in his seat, looking over his work with glazed optics. The scientist's bottom lip was trembling. Two weeks had passed since he had become 'intimate' with Drift, and the mech had stepped each and every session up from the last. Not that Perceptor minded, no, the scientist relished the attention the mech doted on him. Even if Drift slapped him around, bit him, took him so rough that it hurt, Perceptor could only describe his feelings for Drift as an addiction. The attention that Drift brought to him, while slightly negative in Perceptor's opinion, was still an infinitely better situation than being neglected. Every night, Perceptor could look forward to being the center of the swordsmech's attention.

This night was no different, actually, already he desired the culmination of the night even more as he squirmed in his chair. The sensations in his valve made the memories of the morning all the more clearer.

Drift had walked in without so much as a word, and Perceptor had found himself gasping as the mech forced his panel open. Still, the shining mech hadn't said a word, and moved in a way that was methodical versus lust driven. The mech had allowed him to watch as he had shoved two buzzing orbs into his valve, and Perceptor still remembered gasping as they entered him. Then Drift had placed a plug in him so they wouldn't fall out. Following that, Drift had finally spoken, but only to tell him to shut his panel and not to touch his interface for the entire day and that if he did, punishment would come. . .

A whine left Perceptor as he leaned forward, crossing his legs as those buzzing toys continued to tease him. Grasping at the desk roughly for a moment, Perceptor could only give a shocked gasp as he noticed Springer standing in the doorway of his labs. The green Wrecker's helm turned to the side in confusion before he asked, "Are you alright Perceptor?"

Swallowing hurriedly, Perceptor forced his posture into something a little more resembling relaxed even though he hardly was. "Y-yes, Springer, just fine, I was just stretching!" Perceptor managed with a chord of nervous laughter.

The crinkling in Springer's face clearly told Perceptor that Springer didn't believe that. Crossing his arms, Springer murmured, "Kup wanted me to send down some readings for you to look at." Springer's arms remained crossed for just a moment more before he dropped them to sub out a datapad for Perceptor.

It was then Perceptor realized he would have to stand to retrieve it, and that meant jostling those pleasure toys in his valve. Swallowing, he slowly rose, using the desk to support himself while trying not to cry out with the acute pleasure teasing his valve.

Seeing this, Springer could only quip, "Perceptor, if you're not feeling well, you should go to the medbay. Kup would hardly want you to work yourself too hard."

Smiling weakly, Perceptor replied in a nervous tone, "Oh, but I'm fine, I swear," before he made the ardent strides towards Springer. Perceptor took the datapad gingerly before offering a soft, "Thank you for bringing this down for me, I appreciate it." Oh, who knew what would've happened if he had needed to actually walk a long distance with those horrible, horrible devices in his valve. Why, even now, Perceptor could feel more than a little lubricant sloshing around those vibrating beads.

"You take care of yourself, Perceptor, the medic had a time of it patching you up, and he said that any changes in your health should be of the utmost priority considering," Springer chided while shaking a digit at him.

In the meantime, Perceptor had pressed the datapad over his chest as he was chided by the mech. Wincing, he offered another, "I'm really quite fine, sir, there's no need to worry about me."

Surely Springer didn't believe him, but the much larger mech gave in before offering a farewell, "You have a good night, hear?"

"Y-yes, you too, Springer," Perceptor murmured with his helm tilted down, his legs pressed tightly together as if he feared the lubricant would leak out of his panel. The scientist was all too relieved when Springer left, even sighing before half waddling back to his chair.

"I'm disappointed, Perceptor," came a very familiar voice from the door way.

Perceptor whirled, and given his state, half toppled over when he found his optics on Drift's visage. The scientist gave a squeak as he held his frame up precariously against his desk, knocking several items off in the process.

"W-what do you mean?" Perceptor asked with bright optics which watched as Drift entered his lab.

"I mean how much you stammer. . . You wilt under everyone's optics. . ." Drift said plainly, his voice cool for the moment while he padded towards the trembling Perceptor, who was quiet. "Even now, you tremble and shudder, that's fine under my optics, but anyone elses'? No. It won't do," Drift said dismissively as he pressed a hand to Perceptor's chest.

A whine broke from the scientist's vocalizer, but Drift pressed his index digit against Perceptor's lips. "Don't worry, I'll help you. . . I'll make something out of you, I'll make them respect you," Drift crooned softly against an audio receptor.

The mere thought made Perceptor's optics widen, the thought of being someone respected made his spark pulse several times.

"Do you want that?" Drift asked.

"Y-yes. . ." Perceptor stammered, temporarily distracted by the sensations between his legs.

"Good, now pack up your things, and let's go," Drift said before drawing himself away from the scientist.

***

It had taken quite awhile to say the least. Drift had stayed there, watching Perceptor's every movement. Correcting him on his posture, or that he was trembling too much, berating him left and right, all while those toys continued to tease the slag right out of him.

There had been times when Perceptor had been so frustrated, but Drift had kept pushing him. He'd tell him to stop shaking, to walk straight, and a myriad other demands. Drift had even made Perceptor walk across the room several times, only letting him stop when the mech had stopped shaking from the pleasure teasing his systems. It had been nigh impossible, but Perceptor had finally managed after what must've been the tenth attempt.

Yet when he had finally succeeded, Drift had rewarded with him with sweet compliments and even sweeter promises. . .

Now it wasn't so bad, though the walk to Drift's quarters had hardly been pleasant. Yet now he was upon his knees staring up at Drift, who was sitting, cross legged on a chair while regarding Perceptor. Drift's azure optics darted all about him and Perceptor pursed his lips as he waited for whatever it was Drift wanted to do.

"Now what should I do with you?" Drift asked in a voice that must've been rhetorical.

Perceptor could only turn his head bashfully down.

"Look at me, Perceptor. . ." Drift said, his voice carrying an unsaid threat.

Once again pursing his lips, Perceptor looked up at Drift, feeling his cheeks heat while his frame felt like it would melt under Drift's scrutiny. Not only that, Drift had hardly been so kind to removed those toys from his valve.

Perceptor watched as Drift turned his head to the side, placing his index digit against his lip. "It annoys me how much you quake and whimper when anyone so much as looks at you. You act like some easy plate-trade mech, always acting all shy as if you're some virgin mech," Drift berated with cold, narrowed optics.

"I-I'm sorry, Drift," Perceptor whimpered, his helm starting to sink.

A veritable snarl left Drift then, "Don't apologize! Don't stammer, and look at me!"

After Drift finished, the mech slammed his fist against the edge of the chair, causing Perceptor to jerk, but he did look up.

"You're only going to be submissive to me, do you hear, Perceptor?" Drift asked cooly as his persona settled back into a much calmer side of Drift.

Swallowing, Perceptor willed himself not to stammer before replying, "Yes, Drift. . ."

"Good," Drift said before tenting his digits in his lap, while uncrossing his legs. Spreading them crudely, Drift grinned, "Now, we're going to work on a rewards system. . . Tell me, Perceptor, have you ever pleasured a mech with your mouth?"

The very thought caused Perceptor's cheeks to heat before he replied, "No, Drift. . ."

"Well, you're going to learn then, unless you like those beads in your valve?" Drift mused with a grin. "Come here," purred the lithe, shining white mech.

Looking weary, Perceptor edged towards Drift slowly, upon his knees, not bothering to rise up. Soon, he was right before Drift and he watched as the mech flicked a hand out to touch the back of his helm. Chills shot up Perceptor's backstrut at such a plain touch simply because it was Drift.

"Good, good, Perceptor. . . Now, put your hands on my thighs, stroke them, touch me like you would want me to touch you," Drift crooned as he leaned his helm back.

Gingerly, Perceptor reached his hands out before laying them Drift's spread legs. The warmth radiating off of them surprised Perceptor, but he didn't comment as he started to move his hands in slow circles on the shining metal.

"Go on. . ."

Drift's urgings caused Perceptor to press a little more firmly to the metal as he looked up to watch Drift's expression.

"Now your mouth, press your lips to my panel, lick, use your imagination. . ." Drift purred as he rubbed his hand over the back of Perceptor's helm with a smile blooming on his lips.

Nodding slowly, Perceptor eased his face down until his lips touched to the panel that he feared he would burn his lips on. It was a chaste touch, but a rumble from Drift urged Perceptor to press his lips more fully against Drift's panel, before moving his lips against the panel. This elicited some all too beautiful sounds from Drift and Perceptor found it almost. . . similar to a science experiment. Simply put, he was figuring out what pleased Drift. Tenuously, Perceptor flicked his glossa out, running it over the heated metal while he maintained those firm motions on Drift's hips.

There was a faint groan that left from Drift's lips then, and Perceptor could only guess that it was from the application of his glossa to Drift's hot panel.

"More," the warrior mech gritted out, his optics flickering, though with his head down Perceptor could hardly see. "Use the flat of your. . .ah. . . glossa. . . drag it up. . . alternate with the tip. . ." Drift murmured.

Doing just that, Perceptor flicked his optics up while he drew his glossa, upon its flat, up Drift's panel. Just slightly did Perceptor sense Drift's minute movement up and against his glossa. It was rather like Drift was doing his best not to buck his hips right into Perceptor's face plates. A moment later, Perceptor found his lips against nothing, his head dipping down as Drift's panel slid up from under Perceptor's mouth.

Looking down, Perceptor found his optics upon Drift's interface while a hand rubbed at the back of his helm. Perceptor knew just how large Drift's spike was, and he was. . . apprehensive to say the last.

A purr was coming from Drift on the other hand. "Good, good, Percy. . ." he rasped. "Now go ahead, wrap your lips about my housing. . ." he urged.

Swallowing, Perceptor edged his face forward, parting his lips so they could consume the aforementioned spike housing.

"Now suck," Drift commanded with his helm lolled back while the corners of his lips pointed upward.

Flickering his optics, Perceptor tensed his lips around the spike housing before pulling them taunt about the ridged ring and sucking. Again, one of those almost jerking motions came from Drift, and the mech seemed to be straining for control over himself.

A little whimper left Perceptor as Drift pressed a hand against his helm and pushed him back, thinking he must've done something wrong. Yet instead, Perceptor watched as Drift's rather large spike extended. The scientist had yet to see it so close. . . The spike was both long and rather broad, and heavily ridged.

"Go on," Drift chuckled and Perceptor realized that the pale mech had seen his astounded look. "Lick it, I'm getting cold," the mech added as he lounged back, moving his hips out so Perceptor would have better access.

Swallowing, Perceptor knit his brow as he looked over the spike, but he knew better than to disregard or falter on Drift's orders. Slipping his glossa out between his lips, Perceptor pressed it to Drift's spike before licking against it. Perceptor couldn't help but moan as he felt those ridges against his glossa, remembering how that spike felt in his aching valve. A groan reached his audio receptors as he flicked his glossa over Drift's spike, slowly drawing it to the tip before tasting the drop of transfluid that had beaded upon the slit.

The taste was tangy, and hardly unpleasant as Perceptor might've expected. Drawing his glossa about that generous spike, Perceptor would look up every so often to look to Drift. It was hard to discern what was going on with the swordsmech given the position, but the scientist did so try. . .

"Mmm, that's it, good work, Percy, you might shape up after all. . . Now. . . Ah. . . try to swallow me down, take me in your mouth," Drift whispered encouragingly.

Looking at Drift with a gaping mouth, Perceptor's optics slowly flicked down until they slighted upon the tip of Drift's spike which was already bubbling with more transfluid. Spreading his lips, Perceptor wrapped them about Drift's spike which instantly caused a reaction from the warrior. It was a soft moan, but for Drift, it was loud to Perceptor's audio receptors. Drift's spike felt even larger when pressed into his mouth, Perceptor thought.

"Nng, go on, Perceptor. . . Take in more. . . You know you can. . ." insisted Drift who was rubbing a hand over the back of Perceptor's helm.

To put it simply, it was hard for Perceptor given Drift's sheer girth, but he tried to, Drift had so pleased him and he wanted to please Drift in return. Perceptor tried to press the spike further, but it only bumped against the back of his oral cavity.

Suddenly, Drift's touch became gentle as Perceptor nearly gagged upon the thick spike. "Just relax Perceptor, you're making it harder than it is," came a sympathetic whisper from Drift. "Relax and my spike will slide right down your throat. . ." teased the warrior, but sweetly, not cruelly.

Unconsciously, Perceptor swallowed at Drift's words, while also half swallowing against the spike which caused the warrior to moan. Such a heady sound, Perceptor thought as he worked to relax his throat before nudging Drift's spike against it. Slowly it started to sink into his throat and the feeling was somewhat disconcerting, though not painful. . .just unusual. A strangled sound cut through his sensory grids from his audio receptors as Drift had tossed his helm back.

"That's it!" panted the mech, and Perceptor pressed onwards, encouraged by Drift's voice. A rush of air from Drift's intakes swirled about Perceptor's cheeks as he took in more. Finally, he reached a point where he swore he could take no more.

"Go up," Drift managed in a tight voice.

Up Perceptor went, until his mouth was right at the tip.

"Ah. . . Now down. . . use your glossa this time. . ."

The scientist did as he was told, going back down, wiggling his glossa over those deep, noticeable ridges. Another direction change from Drift caused him to draw his mouth up, and then back down before Drift stopped giving him directions, letting Perceptor go to it on his own. Stilted, stuttered sounds left Drift, they were quiet and nowhere near the sort of sounds Perceptor produced in pleasure, but the sounds were still intoxicating to Perceptor's audio receptors.

Yet soon those sounds were getting louder as Perceptor worked his mouth, his glossa and his throat over Drift's straining spike. Rubbing his hands over Drift's burning thighs, the scientist could feel the warrior go tense beneath him. Suddenly, heat hit the back of his throat as Drift hit his overload. Transfluid flowed down his throat and into Perceptor's tank as Drift howled in pleasure. Clawed digits scraped over Perceptor's helm as Drift went through those throes of pleasure, but the scientist was pleased, for once, he was pleased.

"Mmm. . . Good, good Perceptor," cooed Drift, panting as he helped Perceptor, who was also panting, off his spike.

Watching Drift with expectant optics, Perceptor waited as he sat back on his haunches. A grin worked over Drift's features as he leaned back in his chair for only a few minutes, waiting for his systems to return to normal."

"Now, I think someone might deserve a reward," Drift purred before standing, circling Perceptor with a wide smile.

Shivers of expectation worked down Perceptor's backstrut as the mech circled around him.

"On your hands and knees, Perceptor, aft in the air," Drift whispered almost faintly.

So excited, so needy, Perceptor instantly reacted, turning about and drawing himself on his hands and knees just as Drift had asked. Lifting his aft, he received a swat for his good behavior, but was hardly perturbed as Drift settled behind him.

"Good, good," came Drift's whispers as the warrior drew himself over Perceptor. The scientist felt yet another shiver as the closeness of Drift settled over him. Lubricant trickled down his valve as he felt Drift's intakes against his audio receptor.

"This time. . . I want you to scream 'Deadlock,' instead of 'Drift.'"


	4. Chapter 4

The room fell quiet the instant that Perceptor's frame came to a screeching halt save for the soft pants coming from the scientist. Pain fogged his sensory grids as he drew himself up on his forearms. His vision was obscured and it didn't help that the dusty cargo bay, which he and Drift were currently occupying was so awfully dark and dim. Even now, Drift's form, shining and white, seemed to meld into the dark. Azure optics stared intently upon him and Perceptor could only wipe away at the mech blood that was dripping down his lip.

"Get up," came Drift's voice, cold, harsh and unfeeling.

Wincing, Perceptor did just that, lifting himself off of the dusty floor that showed more than a few mars on its dusty surface, mars that were red, white and black. The scientist's frame hurt all over, as it it had the day before and the day before that even even the week and the previous before it. The warrior mech who was slowly circling around him must've been truly determined to make something respectable of him.

The stuttering had been nearly eradicated from Perceptor's form of speech, and he was doing much better at holding optic contact. Still, he slipped up time and time again, so Drift had thought it be wise that to teach the mech a skill he could truly be proud of. In short, Drift was going to teach Perceptor, who couldn't stand his own with a minibot, how to defend himself. It had gone just as Perceptor had believed it would. That was to say, absolutely miserably. Drift had decided at an early start for a private venue, hence their being at that horribly lit cargo bay on the Xantium.

"Take your stance," Drift commanded.

Slowly, Perceptor dropped his hips, lowering his frame, widening the distance between his pedes while he drew his arms up into a comfortable but ready position. Perceptor was sure he'd need an overhaul soon, everything was always so sore, but Drift had made him deal with it. When others had asked, Perceptor had been truthful in that Drift was teaching him hand to hand combat.

Of course, those who asked, whether it be Blurr, Kup, Hotrod or any one of the rest of the Wreckers, they always laughed at the mere thought.

Perceptor didn't know why, but such a response made him angry.

It made him resolute to learn at least something from Drift in defending himself.

Not only did Drift want to make him into something respectable, but Perceptor wanted to be something respectable. . . .

***

"Again," boomed Drift, circling the fallen Perceptor who was picking himself off the floor that was now half covered with Perceptor's paint.

Another week, but this one hadn't been a complete failure, Perceptor thought as he forced himself up. Pain throbbed over his sensory grids but his muscle cables were getting stronger, he was faster, he was getting better. While he was still absolutely nothing in comparison to Drift, there was something empowering about some change, some betterment in him. Standing, the scientist faced Drift while taking a stance, not needing to be prompted by the swordsmech for such a thing.

"Strike me, or try," came Drift's voice, callous this round. "Try not to fall over when you do," Drift added.

Pursing his lips, Perceptor felt a wave of frustration over him and he lunged forward, finding his footing far more confident than what it had been before.

Yet not confident enough, Perceptor soon found out as Drift had easily sidestepped him before delivering a sharp kick to his backstrut. Pain spidered through out his frame, disrupting every motivator grid in his systems and sending him crashing to the ground.

"Did you not hear me? I told you not to fall over; you are absolutely hopeless," Drift murmured as he stepped away from the pile of metal that was Perceptor's form.

"Get up, and try again, or is that beyond your ability too?"

Looking up, Perceptor actually found himself glaring at Drift as he drew his aching form up. The scientist thought he would surely receive some form of rebuke for such a thing but he swore he saw the swordsmech smirk instead. . .

***

There were always distractions from the pain that Perceptor incurred in his training sessions. Drift had become his source of everything, his pain, his pleasure, his will. A throaty moan tore through his vocalizer as the swordsmech gave a powerful thrust into his so wet valve. His hands grasped tightly upon Drift's shoulders as he bucked his hips into Drift's primal movements. Perceptor was addicted to the pain and the pleasure both and he couldn't help but toss his helm back and cry out in sheer ecstacy.

"Deadlock!" the scientist screamed, knowing how much the gleaming, seemingly chivalrous mech loved being called by his old designation, but only in the throes of passion. Such a cry caused Drift to thrust even harder into Perceptor which only sent more pleasure surging through his sensory grids. It was electrifying, t was intense and Perceptor only wanted more as static broke from his vocalizer.

Such a fevered pace could not hold up for too long and Perceptor realized that it must've been their fourth or fifth round for the evening. Mewling in pleasure, Perceptor's valve pulled tight around Drift's intruding spike. Perceptor's overload only caused Drift's. The feel of transmetal fluid was both comforting and stinging. Comforting in the warmth, and stinging from the use of his valve that night so far.

Yet even Drift had limits sometimes, Perceptor realized as the quaking swordsmech collapsed atop him, panting while his vents whirred and whined. Energy crackled over both their frames while the pops and pings of heated metal were all too audible. Steam rose up and condensation formed.

"Well, you're least getting better on the berth," Drift purred contently, nuzzling an audio receptor of Perceptor's in a rare show of affection.

Perceptor chose not to respond only looked up at the ceiling. Such a response elicited a chuckle from Drift who was always more mellow after his second overload.

"I've decided I need to ramp up you training. . ." Drift commented.

"What do you mean?"

A smile unfolded upon Drift's lips, clearly pleased that his toy was becoming less and less of a stammering fool. "Well, you're going to talk to Kup," Drift said while he sat up atop Perceptor's lap. Still smiling he swirled a clawed digit over Perceptor's chest plate, making flowing little shapes in the condensation that had formed at the closeness of their two super heated frames.

"And?" asked Perceptor, optics flicking to Drift, finding the mech still as beautiful and exotic since he had first lain optics on him.

"You're going to tell him that there's a planet in a nearby system you want to check out with me as your escort. Make something up. . . But two weeks, you and me, no one to distract us, and all training. . ." Drift mused thoughtfully.

***

Surely his digits were bleeding, but Perceptor didn't have the time to think about that as he hauled himself up a rock face. Oh Perceptor had believed he had known what pain was when he had been in that cargo hold. Now the scientist sincerely wished for that room back. The pain he knew now surely was a thousand times greater. Every muscle cable in his frame felt like it would tear at any moment but Drift pushed him harder and harder. Drawing himself up while panting, Perceptor stood, padding weakly over to Drift who was surveying the area with sharp optics.

The planet that Perceptor had picked was sub organic, though most of the surface was permeated by eons old volcanic rock. It was course under the hand and pede, mottled with little tiny holes from minuscule air bubbles trapped in lava millennia ago. Had Perceptor been allowed to be a scientist, he truly would've been fascinated but Drift gave him hardly the chance to even glance for a moment at the strange flora that pushed out from the out croppings of stone. While the rock held almost a violet hue, the plants were blue green in color, almost matching the atmosphere above. Even lovelier were the large fields of crystals that could be found. So far, they had encountered no fauna, much to Perceptor's delight and much to Drift's disappointment.

Drift sood silent as his optics continued their survey. It was then that Perceptor took in his soundings in full detail. Above, green clouds, thin and whispy rolled overhead. There was little wind, but what little there was, whistled through hollow and fluted rocks. In the distance, Perceptor could see ancient lava flumes, half weathered away, still rising into the air. The planet had an eerie quality to it, but it was somehow peaceful at the same time.

"Come," came Drift's voice, annoyed, and Perceptor had found that he had become distracted. Before he had a chance to say anything to Drift in apology, the warrior was once again on the move, darting over the landscape with such ease that Perceptor was instantly envious. Following Drift, or rather lagging behind, Perceptor ignored the world around him, instead focusing only on keeping up with Drift. Here they could actually work on his stamina, instead of being scrunched in a very confining storage bay.

At least the air was marginally cool so that his systems didn't get too heated by the run, still, Perceptor's intakes heaved with every step over that landscape. It was rough, uneven, up and down, and Perceptor saw himself floundering while he saw Drift absolutely thriving. It was as if the swordsmech had been freed and was running for one of the first times. Azure optics held to that figure moving over the ridges and rises and down the small cliff faces in a way that made it look easy.

To think, it was only morning, and this was only the beginning. Drift had decided that mornings and evenings were reserved for running and scouting. The rest of the day would be other various activities; sparring was Perceptor's least favorite, though 'hide and seek' came in for a close second. . .

***

The light was dimming in the sky, and Perceptor surely thought Drift would call it quits too, would call him in for the night run, which would be better than what he was doing now. Hunkered down, Perceptor moved as quietly as he could, keeping his frame down and following a large crack in the volcanic rock that offered him a margin of comfort. Odd, that Drift had yet to find him, Perceptor thought worriedly, as he winced when a rock cracked from under his pede. Drift should've heard that, should've been on him. Perceptor's record had been fifteen minutes of playing keep away with the swordsmech. Today, it had been three hours. Feeling a shudder go down his backstrut, Perceptor simply told himself that the swordsmech was surely playing with him, toying with him, making him paranoid.

It was working.

There were thoughts of calling out for Drift, but he knew the mech would berate him, call him weak, call him a coward and Perceptor didn't want that, he wanted to please Drift. Yet, what if something had happened to Drift? What if something had gotten Drift? Such a thought caused the scientist to realize he didn't even have a chance if something had taken down Drift.

Thoughts were quickly interrupted as he heard something from behind him. It was a low scrape, followed by the scuffle of something just above. Turning around, fear plastered on his face, Perceptor looked up as he flattened himself against the wall. That was not Drift, Perceptor's paranoia told him, while another part said not to be silly. It had been four days, they hadn't seen anything living but a few herbivorous creatures that strayed from the flats where Drift had decided to train.

Then came another scrape, followed by a step, two, three, four, steps, and they were heavy, but quiet. Perceptor could feel them than hear them. Inside his spark was fluttering brightly and then he heard that confirmation that it wasn't his CPU playing tricks on him.

A growl. . .

Low, rasping, and rumbling, that growl sent shivers down his backstrut that made his knees wobble. That tense moment suddenly became one that was far more chaotic. That creature, what ever it was, roared and it was truly the most horrible sound he had ever heard. Before Perceptor knew it, a wickedly clawed paw reached down, swatting and grabbing in the fissure that Perceptor had taken refuge in. Just barely did those claws miss and Perceptor threw himself forward before starting off into a stumbling run. Run, was all Perceptor could think of, and several times he could feel the air over his helm whoosh when the beast, what ever it was, took another swipe at him on the surface just a scant distance away. Perceptor had hoped that the crack might narrow, might form a small cavern, but he found the reverse. Tripping over a stray rock, Perceptor was tossed into a much more open section of the ravine. A section much exposed, and large enough for that beast to hop in.

Fear soured Perceptor's tanks, and he scooted back using his hands, dragging his aft as fearful, tremulous sounds left his vocalizer. The scientist's optics were bright, nearly white as he stared at that beast. . .

It was massive, three times his size, and twice the size of a cyberwolf. It was quadrupedal like a cyberwolf, but the similarities soon ended from there. Cyberwolves were lithe, aerodynamic, but this creature was broad, heavily muscled with a sharply sloped back that was ridged with spines that flickered in the dying light. Green eyes, three of them stared intently on him as it growled, thin globules of a mucus-like liquid dripping from its fanged maw that was wide as his helm. It was scaled, furred and feathered, and it was a multitude of colors, red, greens, yellows and blues, and everything about it said that it was the top of the food chain. . .

Closer and closer it came, hunkering down as it further bared those teeth, ugly and yellow, while the spines on its back fanned out for a threatening display. Perceptor thought he was going to die, that this was going to be it. All alone again, he thought, still scooting back. . .

Turning his head, not wanting to see, a sudden shriek caught his audio receptors that prompted him to turn, only to see Drift atop the creature with one of his short swords plunged into the creature's side. Staring incredulously, Perceptor would watch as Drift was bucked off, only to become the object of the hunter's attention. Yet Drift didn't land on his back, smoothly he landed on his pedes and darted to the side before the loping, wounded beast could gore him. Despite the beast's heavy stature, it moved quickly with those thickly muscled legs, and it gave a baleful roar as it turned when Drift had sidestepped it. This time a bounded forward before leaping to pounce, but Drift was ready, always ready and the swordsmech ducked and rolled though flicked his blade up so it caught the beast's sternum and wicked down i's chest until it caught the mech in the stomach. That sharp sword neatly parted its skin as if it were some specimen, pinned to a board and was being prepped for dissection. Oh how it howled as Perceptor watched in stark horror as the beast's guts literally fell out, blood, gore, organs and all. It knew it was mortally dead, but it hadn't stopped moving, and it certainly was still a threat. Only, Drift was the bigger threat and he moved quickly, grinning of all things as he circled around and thrusted his sword into the beast's skull before it could whip its head around.

Denta bared, Drift thrusted that sword further into the creature's cranium as it thrashed. Now truly in death throes, the beast thrashed wildly, causing Drift to be especially careful as he stepped back from the writhing mess, leaving the swords where they were. Perceptor could see that Drift knew it was dead, its brain just didn't know it yet. After long minutes, the creature grew still as blood pooled out from its body.

Panting, half sobbing, Perceptor looked up to see Drift retrieving his swords from the carcass, both coming free with a sickening sound. Speechless was the scientist as he finally found his legs, standing up. "T-There's n-not any more of those, are there?" Perceptor asked.

"You're stuttering," Drift reminded nonchalantly.

"I asked you if there were anymore of those!" Perceptor snapped at the white mech who was splattered in a green fluid that comprised the beast's blood.

A grinned, feral and threatening appeared on Drift's face, clearly amused at Perceptor's outburst, "Probably, but they seem to be solitary," Drift answered as he padded towards Perceptor.

"I baited it out," Drift admitted with a shrug, "Didn't think it would go after you so easily," Drift said with a chuckle, "You make too much noise."

Perceptor's jaw dropped as he looked at Drift dumbly, "You lured that thing out so it could chase me!?" Perceptor asked sharply, optics brightening.

"Well, I wanted the element of surprise, so yes, I did, Perceptor," Drift said with a mocking smile.

"You used me as bait?!" Perceptor screeched rhetorically. The scientist was immensely angry and he threw himself forward at Drift. He thought the mech would sidestep him, let him fall down and embarrass him further, instead, he rammed completely and fully into Drift. A chuckle just barely caught his audio receptors as Drift dropped down with ease, rolling the both of them onto the ground so that they were wrestling in not just the dirt, but that stinking blood of the dead beast.

"You slagger!" Perceptor hissed as he tried to punch Drift, only ending up hitting dirt.

"Is that anyway to thank the mech that just saved you?" came a croon from Drift, seeming oddly cool despite Perceptor's outburst.

While Perceptor had missed, Drift had not and Perceptor found himself gasping as he was socked in the jaw by Drift's fist. A moment later, it was him that was on his back, and Drift atop him, grinning menacingly.

"That's good, Perceptor, really, good, be angry. . ." Drift purred as he grabbed at the scientist's flailing arms and pinning his wrists to the muddy ground.

Despite Drift's surprising response, Perceptor continued to fight and struggle against the mech atop him, howling before Drift actually bit him. A yowl left him before he shouted, "Get off me!"

Chuckling, Drift moved his face to Perceptor's audio receptor, "Oh no, but I do think I will get you off. . . I think you deserve it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The scent still lingered, no matter what Perceptor did. There wasn't enough solvent or water on that horrible little planet to get the stench off of him. Of course, Drift smelt just as bad, Perceptor thought, only Drift, who was standing in front of him with a wide smirk, did not seem terribly bothered by his odor. For all Perceptor knew, Drift enjoyed smelling like an animal. Only two more days to go, Perceptor thought before the pick up shuttle arrived, and Perceptor could get a decent wash and rest.

"Come on, Percy. . .Attack me. . ." Drift murmured, still pleased with himself over what he had done a week ago to Perceptor.

Giving a faint huff as he circled to the left, Perceptor spoke, "I would attack if my senses weren't overwhelmed by this stink that you caused!"

Perceptor's voice was a bit higher than normal from the indignity of smelling so revolting. However, the overpowering scent was hardly to be his last stressor.

"Oh get over it Percy, stop fussing over yourself like a femme and suck it up," Drift chided with a feral grin as he lowered himself so he was nearly on his haunches.

Gracefully, Drift circled and Perceptor could see by the predatory look on the warrior's features, he was either lusting for a fight, or lusting for a round of interfacing. Perhaps both, Perceptor reflected sardonically.

Pursing his lips, Perceptor felt quite incensed, but he would not stoop to Drift's level and attack blindly. "Well, that's all satisfactory, Drift, but you're used to it, considering the company you used to keep," Perceptor retorted, hardly thinking about his voice of words.

When the feral grin on Drift's features disappeared, Perceptor knew he had said the very worst of words to the mech. Suddenly, Perceptor had his back against the basalt field beneath him, and Drift was atop him, growling and snarling with his hands gripping Perceptor's shoulders as he shook the mech.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that again! Ever! Do you hear me?!" snarled Drift.

Pain hit sensory grids at such rough handling, and Perceptor quietly remarked that the way Drift was speaking must've been similar to how the mech had spoken as a Decepticon. A week ago, Perceptor would've backed down, two weeks, most assuredly.

However, today was different. Everything hurt, he stank, he hadn't been given hardly a chance to recharge, much less explore, and to put it simply, Perceptor was at the end of his rope.

"Or what!? Are you going to kill me, Deadlock? Some Autobot you are, you sure put on an extravagant guise!" Perceptor shouted at Drift, just as angry as the other was as he thrashed wildly beneath Drift.

The swordsmech first snapped his denta at Perceptor as if he was going to bite at his faceplates. Yet somehow Perceptor managed to rear a hand back and hit Drift in the face. For the briefest of moments, Drift appeared startled that Perceptor would even dare do such a thing before he howled and backhanded the scientist hard in retaliation. Such a forceful hit made Perceptor's CPU swim, but after a moment he found just enough clarity to speak a few more choice words, "Look at you! Snarling like the beast you killed a week ago! You're nothing more than a Decepticon in an Autobot's frame, you slagging glitch!"

Perceptor expected to be especially thrashed for that comment, but instead Drift looked supremely insulted, but did not yell, snarl, or physically assault him in any way further. Instead, acting like a chided sparkling, the once Decepticon drew himself right off of Perceptor and without a second look, loped off like a cyberwolf with its tail between its legs. Sitting up, with his processor still reeling, Perceptor stared dumbly at the retreating Drift with his helm cocked to the side.

***

The reeling had long since passed, replaced now with a dull pain that kept Perceptor in a foul mood. Seated before a heating lamp at the makeshift camp. Drift had yet to returned, and with annoyance, Perceptor could scarcely imagine what Drift might bait out to chase him. Though Perceptor thought anything with decent olfactory sensors would've sniffed him out ages ago. Of course, thoughts of the beast brought back memories of what happened after Drift had dispatched it.

_Perceptor had loved it at the time. Being pinned down by Drift, in the dirt that might as well have been mud from the thick, viscous blood flowing into it. Even dead, the beast was throwing off more than a little heat, that, or it was Drift. The lust and desire was bright in those blue optics that Perceptor thought should have been red. They were lip locked, though it was hardly a kiss. Drift was biting him, and strangely enough, Perceptor was biting Drift back. Once, Drift had told him that before his modifications, that he had possessed claws. Perceptor thought he would've been shredded if Drift still had them as the swordsmech's digits raked over his chest over and over. In retaliation, Perceptor's hands, now stronger than ever, had gripped forcefully upon Drift's should plating, even making minute dents in the reinforced plating. _

Forcefully shaking his head, Perceptor tried to will away those thoughts. Wrapping his arms around his knees, the scientist rocked back and forth while staring at the dull orange glow of the heater. Pursing his lips, Perceptor refused to admit aloud how much he had enjoyed what Drift had done to him. It was also part of the reason why he was so frustrated. The way they had interfaced, in such a morbid situation, was hardly anything like Autobots should do, not that any of their unions had been all that pure either. . . .

_"This is how Decepticons interface," Drift had whispered into his audio receptor. A moan tore from Perceptor's vocalizer as if to reply. At that moment, the scientist's legs were obscenely spread and pinned to the muddy mess beneath them. "You like it, don't you, Perceptor? Like being taken in the blood of the fallen and weak, hmmm?" Drift had continued in a huskier whisper as he sank his spike into Perceptor's valve. _

_ In response, Perceptor had screamed out a pleasured, "Yes!" that must've carried for miles across the basalt plains. The bliss had been thick, heady and rich as that spike pushed into his valve that was slick and wet. As Drift ravished him, Perceptor's writhing actions had allowed the mixture of dirt and blood to seep into and thoroughly coat his under plating. Drift had hardly been gentle with his thrusts, not that Perceptor wanted things to be gentle. Having thrived off that forceful pace that Drift had taken, Perceptor, in response, had rolled his hips up and into each thrust, making each meeting that more sharp. Once, Perceptor had squeezed his hips about Drift's legs before actually forcing himself over and atop Drift so he could ride that thing spike that was pervading his valve over and over. _

_ Surprisingly, Drift had not bucked him off immediately. Instead, the swordsmech's hands had grabbed at Perceptor's waist and hips, holding him while the scientist bounced upon his lap quite vivaciously. Lubricant had dripped down Drift's interface at Perceptor's quick and lustful actions and the scientist's optics had been on Drift's the entire time, watching the wanton expression on the mech's face as the swordsmech let Perceptor lead. _

_ But just for a few moments. _

Perceptor gave a sharp huff before he pressed his hands to his dermal plating, rubbing roughly as he tried to remove those images and sounds from his memory banks. Around him, the planet had gone from day to night and only the slightest red violet halo lit the horizon. Above, the stars were appearing, one by one. A nebula appeared soon, like faint glowing clouds. Of course, what was most noticeable in the sky was the ringed planet, that in astronomical senses, was only a scant distance away. Light from the planet's sun shone on the right most face of the empyrean planet, alighting it in a yellow glow that touched to its multitudes of rings, fifteen by Perceptor's count. The sensation of Drift's hands on his hips, the mech's thumbs rubbing slow circles, still could be felt on his plating. . .

_The scene around him spun as Drift easily knocked him right off. In the next moment, Perceptor found himself with his back against the beast that had chased him only a short time ago. Heat lit his back and he found his shoulder nearly right up against one of Drift's swords. Speaking of Drift, the mech had descended almost immediately, quickly penetrating him again which caused Perceptor to cry out loudly before he would throw his helm back against the thick carapace_ _covering the carcass's ribs. _ _Drift was quick to resume his previous pace though Perceptor believed he had been going a little faster in all honesty. _

_ The overload he had experienced had been blinding, to the point that Perceptor's voice had crackled until it had gone out, so that scientist's cries had become utterly silent. _

Sensing something, Perceptor turned, half expecting a braying beast at his back, only to see a Drift that didn't seem at all himself. No, Perceptor had to say that Drift didn't seem like either of the two personas that he had met in his time with Drift. Frowning, Perceptor asked, "What, couldn't find anything to chase me around for a night of entertainment?"

Perceptor thought he seen Drift wince at that, but the mech shook his head before quietly padding to the opposite side of the heating lamp towards one of their packs. Rifling through it, Drift withdrew and energon ration before quickly wolfing it down. Looking Drift over, Perceptor realized the mech was even more of a grungy mess than before. Drift's normally pristine plating was covered in a blubbery, filmy sludge, giving the plating an almost grey cast versus white. Debris of other sorts lingered on Drift's frame as well, and Perceptor could only imagine that the tidbits of this and that were the eviscerated remains of whatever Drift had found.

"Where were you?" Perceptor asked as Drift took another ration and scarfed that one down just as fast.

Drift's answer was a shrug, which frustrated Perceptor further. "You could answer me," Perceptor contested.

Drift looked to Perceptor, his expression bland, but for the time, that predatory vehemence that the mech had displayed earlier seemed all but gone. "And say what? Use your imagination, Perceptor," Drift replied coolly before he started digging for a third energon ration.

Sighing, Perceptor turned his helm away before leaning back, his arms balanced over his knees.

In quick order, Drift had imbibed the third ration. What ever Drift had done, it must've been incredibly taxing. Perceptor couldn't even remember a time when he had needed a second ration. . . Even now, he had only been consuming one at a time, maybe twice a day. Watching Drift, Perceptor sat back. The swordsmech pulled out a cleaning cloth, probably one of the last that remained. Ripping it out of the package, Drift smeared it over his face, trying to pull the grime off his facial plates. Scrubbing it over his hands after his face, Drift seemed almost angry about the way he was cleaning himself off, but Perceptor was quiet.

Standing up, Drift padded towards Perceptor, which made for a very disconcerted Perceptor. Drift knelt before him, saying nothing, moving upon his hands and knees before bringing his face plates only a scant distance from Perceptor's. Perceptor reared back, but Drift persisted even when Perceptor was leaned back so far that he was close to tipping over. It made for an awkward image, as Drift was between Perceptor's legs, but nothing was happening. No, Drift was just staring at him.

Frowning, Perceptor murmured, "What?"

Looking into those azure panes, Perceptor swore he could see some of the wildness that lurked beneath, with the calm atop things for the moment. Drift tossed his head to the side, before drawing away and taking a seat right next to Perceptor. Resisting the urge to scoot away, Perceptor looked at Drift with a raised optic ridge. The swordsmech was acting odd. Very odd in fact, and it perturbed Perceptor a great deal. Perhaps it agitated him even greater than the amount that it did when Drift was acting like a crazy animal.

"Where were you created?" came Drift's voice. All of the anger had dissipated, and the mech had a strange neutrality about his voice.

Frowning, Perceptor looked at Drift as if the mech was glitching. "Why do you want to know that?"

Drift shook his head. "Just tell me," the mech encouraged.

Pursing his lips, Perceptor answered, "Praxus."

"And your creators? How were they? Were you treated well?" Drift asked, not looking at Perceptor, but rather somewhere towards the horizon.

"Did you knock your helm on something?" Perceptor queried.

"No."

Giving a sigh, Perceptor leaned back as he looked at Drift. "I had a sufficient enough younglinghood," Perceptor responded.

"Would you really describe it so simply?" Drift questioned as his optics flicked to the side towards Perceptor.

"I didn't figured you would care for any sort of elaboration," Perceptor riposted.

Frowning, Drift verbalized, "Detail would be nice. . ."

Flicking his optics towards the now star studded sky, Perceptor started, "I came from a middle class family. My creators were neither rich, nor poor. Things were. . . Comfortable. My carrier was a medic, and my sire worked as the head librarian in the Praxian archives." Looking back towards Drift, Perceptor was surprised to see Drift was watching him and was most definitely listening.

Perceptor didn't know if that made him feel more at ease or less.

"I always felt protected, but that was before the war. I never thought anything was that bad. . . " Perceptor reminisced, feeling as if Drift was urging him to continue. "I always enjoyed my schooling and my creators always encouraged me. I admit, I studied and studied when I should've least tried to be semblance of a social mech. I was bullied a little, so that didn't help. . ." Perceptor listed off.

"Why didn't do anything about that? The bullying, I mean," Drift interjected.

"What was there to do about it?" Perceptor snipped back.

Shrugging, Drift explained, "You could've fought back? That's what I would've done."

"Not everyone is you Drift. I didn't believe in violence then, or for a long time," Perceptor responded as he lifted his helm up in response.

There was a light twitch in Drift's features, but no anger ever came. "Why did you join the Autobots. . .?" Drift asked.

To Perceptor, it was an obvious question, but he responded anyways, "There really wasn't any other choice in the matter. The Autobots was all that was there for me when war broke out, after the destruction of Praxus. Both of my creatures were. . .killed. . . Maybe it fueled me, but I wanted to do something good?"

A slight nod came from Drift, but his response seemed entirely contradictory, "Who knows what 'good,' is in a war. . ."

"How can you even consider that?!" Perceptor retorted. "The Decepticons haven't done a thing good! All they want to do is enslave and murder everyone!" Perceptor screeched.

Perceptor's response caused Drift to lift his head, and Perceptor was sure that his words had prompted rage from Drift. Yet the anger in the swordsmech's features disappeared near instantly rather like it had never been there. Instead calm replaced it, but it was an icy sort of cold that cut Perceptor deep to his spark as Drift transfixed him with his optics. "You said yourself, you lived in Praxus, a city where you never knew the sensation of an empty tank, or a hard, dirty street as your berth. For all your science, all your learnings, you haven't a clue what you're really fighting for, do you?"

Stunned into silence, Perceptor stared dumbly at Drift. There were no words he could summon to respond to that. For a moment, Drift had turned his help away, a far away expression on his features as his optics lingered on the stars above. Then Drift scooted back, even closer to Perceptor now than he had before.

"Tell me more about your life when you were young. . ." Drift insisted.

***

"--- loved being at the science academy. . ." Perceptor trailed off, looking down at the sight beside and bellow his chest plates.

Several hours had passed, and Perceptor wasn't quite sure how Drift had coaxed him into speaking about his early life so much, but now Perceptor sat, still murmuring little words of this and that regarding his past. Drift was no longer sitting. Instead, he was laid out on his side, next to Perceptor, with his helm leaned upon one of the scientist's pale legs. Perceptor had chosen to settle his hand upon the side of Drift's helm, yet his digits trembled. The beast had been tamed. For the moment.

Swallowing, Perceptor looked down, noting Drift's optics were a flat gray, and the only sound from the swordmech being that of a soft whir.

***

Never had Perceptor been so grateful to see a transport shuttle, and he was beyond grateful to be on the Xantium. Several Wreckers had already made more than a few comments about his and Drift's smell, snickering and complaining about it back and forth. Feeling frustrated, Perceptor quickly strode the familiar corridors, hoping he would be unmolested by Drift or otherwise. To his great disdain, Drift was still following him, but being quiet at very least.

Throwing a glare behind him, Perceptor hurried all the quicker, lest Drift decide for antics in the wash racks. Yet it was not to be, as a teal green mech, shorter than he, but stockier, stepped into the hall.

"Ah, Perceptor, jus' the mech I was looking for," Kup murmured without hardly moving his lips, giving the mech's speech a slurred sound.

"Yes?. . .Sir?" Perceptor asked, his tone coming off colder than he expected, and nearly forgetting the honorific.

For a moment, Kup's features knitted together, while he tilted his helm to the side. "I was expecting a report on how things went. Ya find anything down there?"

Well. Perceptor hadn't thought up an excuse, but he didn't really have the nerves to deal with anymore. All he wanted was one slagging wash in the racks! Pursing his lips, Perceptor mulled his thoughts over, not wanting to snap. "Sir, I'd be more than happy to deliver a report if I could just get a wash first," Perceptor said a little cooly.

Percept never had spoken against Kup or any officer with even the slightest amount of disagreement. Kup's optics flared and the elder mech looked as if he might choke at Perceptor's words. Frowning, he responded, "Of course."

"Thank you," was Perceptor's reply as he slipped by quickly, ignoring the odd look he was surely receiving from Kup.

***

"Don't mind him, he's just upset," Drift murmured smoothly, a smile touching his lips as he looked to Kup.

"Ain't never seen 'im quite like that," Kup commented before crossing his arms, still watching Perceptor as he strode down the hall.

"Well, you see, the second day we got there, we were. . . hum. . . greeted," Drift began with a sheepish, but kindly smile, "By some of the local fauna. Trashed everything. Not just the comms but all of Perceptor's research material."

"Is that so?" Kup asked as he finally looked to Drift.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is so. We were quite bored out of our CPUs, and I can't blame Perceptor of feeling a little shorted. . ."

"That's too bad, I was hoping he'd find something of a use. . ." Kup commented. "Ah, oh well. Slag happens," the elder mech added.

"I suppose it does, sir," Drift murmured, his expression calm and gentle.

"Well, you smell as bad as 'e does, ya better hit the racks too, lest you dirty my Xantium," Kup spoke, as he turned to slip back into his office.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Drift murmured before bending his helm down in a low bow.

Wash up, yes, Drift thought, but he would wait. There was the thought that he should assail Perceptor in the washracks, but that might push Perceptor too far. After all, there was always later, and Perceptor wasn't going to get all that fetid odor off of him in one wash. . .


End file.
